All Roads Lead to Fitz
by WRitesALOt
Summary: Upon the death of former President Fitzgerald Grant, Olivia is once again caught between two people: who she wants to be, and who she has to be. This is Scandal as I have imagined it, and nothing more.
1. Over a Cliff

There was no house in Vermont or standing in the sun anymore. There was me and OPA and the large white hat that I was SUPPOSED to be wearing. There were red wine stains and popcorn and despair and death, and hooch. Mellie had brought hooch. There was Mellie standing before me demanding acceptance and Vanessa demanding explanations. There was a dead Fitz and a begging Jake and a friendless Abby, but no. There was no house in Vermont or standing in the sun.

"So the two of you... You were seeing each other?"

I couldn't even believe I had said it out loud, it was so preposterous. How many times had I gone on television and said it? America loves a love story. How many times had I pitched them to networks, to the American people? America loves a love story.

I took a swig of hooch.

"Isn't that what you wanted? You never wanted to be the wife. You were never happy with him."

"Don't you tell me what I was! Don't you dare make it seem as if I didn't breathe that man every minute of my life. Don't you dare make it seem as if I didn't dedicate the best years of my life to him when he wasn't even mine. I built that man. I bled for that man. I made that man good enough to love you! Don't you ever fix your mouth to tell me what I felt for him, with him!"

I stood then. I'd only had a few sips of the home brew, and I was still steady on my feet. I took off my shoes from the day and shed my sweater. I swept my hair up into a ponytail and grabbed the freshly popped popcorn from the counter next to the stove. I ate the microwaved stuff when it was a good day. The stove popped when it wasn't.

"Olivia, I didn't come here to argue. Fitz needed me, and now that he isn't here, it's time you and I planned his funeral."

I snorted at that.

"You and I? Tell me Mellie. What do you know about that man outside of politics? You tell me what you know about that man outside of fatherhood, and presidency, and optics?"

I stared her down. I was angry now, but not for the reason Mellie expected. I wasn't angry because they were screwing or pretending to love each other. I was angry because this never got old for her. Her righteous indignation about being his scorned wife. My justification as to why being married to Mellie made one deserving of having a mistress.

"I knew him in ways that you didn't. Ways that you couldn't because you were random and not required. Ways that-"

"Random? The fact that you actually believe that is laughable. Random? My relationship with Fitz was no more random than yours! You wanna talk about random? Who did he want to see when he was recovering from a gunshot wound? Who did he spend the rest of his life chasing after? Who did he worship, in more ways than one? I was everything for that man! He lived and breathed according to my word! I was gospel! He attempted to lay sacrifice after sacrifice at my feet! Your marriage, his presidency, the lives of his children, his own life! Random? The only thing random here is that you decided to spread your legs after I told him that I didn't want him. The only thing random is that you decided it would be a good idea to sleep with him after YOU said that he took everything from you! I was as required as oxygen for that man. Don't flatter yourself or attempt to inflate the importance of your relationship because you need to hold onto a memory that doesn't exist with a man that no longer exists."

With that I downed the glass of hooch in front of me. I couldn't breathe or process when she was here.

"Olivia, what do you want me to do?"

"Leave. I'll call you."

"The days of me doing what you want me to do, when you tell me to do them, are over."

"Oh please. That's part of the reason your marriage lasted as long as it did. You can't be controlled. If you've ever done something I asked you to do, it's because you wanted to."

A small stare down ensued. Mellie had always been taller than me, but my fury did an excellent job of evening the score.

"Aren't you going to ask how it happened?"

"How what happened? You and Fitz? I know how it happened. The two of you have children together. At your awful attempt at co-parenting, someone said something that made the other feel guilty or sentimental. The two of you took a pause from being disappointed in each other, and before you knew it, you were on your knees. Because if I remember correctly, that's how he always liked you. Kneeling, subservient. One thing led to another and Fitz, a weak man, allowed himself to be manipulated. That and he was swept up in the wonderful idea of having two women. But now, he's dead Mellie. So how the two of you happened to fall into bed together is irrelevant to me. What matters is what we're going to do now."

"What _we're_ going to do?"

"Yes Mellie. We. You know as well as I do that Fitz was murdered, and neither of us is great at making friends. Now, I'm done talking about this for today. Stay or go, but I'm done."

I expected her to take the bottle of hooch with her. She didn't. She rose silently from the table and walked to the door. But it was just like Mellie to try and have the last word.

Fitz had a type.

"It's ok to cry Olivia. But don't make a scene. You're better than that."

With that, she was out of the door. I snorted with derision. I had been called worse than that before. Mellie had long since ceased to hurt my feelings. I gathered my shoes and sweater and went into my bedroom. I was a lot of things. Messy was not one of them. As I stared at my red, dry eyes in the mirror, I could tell that I was different. Fitz's death had changed me. I had always been on the small side, but I prided myself on having just the right amount of curves. Now, I had easily lost 10 pounds, and when you're already miniscule, it just made me look... ill. I had dark shadows under my eyes, and I'd been wearing an unhealthy amount of beige, even for me. I needed something more than popcorn and wine. Something stronger than hooch. I called Jake.

"Vanessa keeps asking where I'm going."

"Then tell her."

"I do."

I never understood why he didn't just remove his tie in the car. He knew what he was coming here for. He knew how this would end, no matter how many times we tried to talk ourselves out of it.

"I don't even know what I'm doing here. I told you last week that if you couldn't choose, I would choose for you."

"Just because you didn't like my choice, doesn't mean that I didn't choose. Pants. Now."

"No."

This was the annoying part. He resisted in the beginning. He pretended to take the moral high ground at first. He'd bring up Vanessa and Fitz to try and make me feel guilty. Then, he'd pout and behave like a petulant child. It always ended the same way. I would walk to the bedroom and sit on the bed. 5 minutes later he would join me. Today, I didn't have the patience.

"Ballard, you can do this or not. Nobody is stopping you from being faithful to your wife. Nobody is making you do anything you don't want to do. This particular game has bored me for the last time."

I poured myself another glass of wine. Everything seemed to be taxing today. Everything seemed to grate my nerves. As if on cue, the phone rang.

 _"You know who you've reached. I wouldn't, but you're more than welcome to leave a message."_

 _"Olivia, I know you're home. Please answer me. I've been trying to apologize. I won't beg."_

Another derisive snort. She was like a fly on garbage. Ignoring her call would not make her go away. I felt hands slide across my waist. They were the wrong hands. They would have to do. I would never feel the ones I wanted ever again.

"You're too thin. Have you only been eating popcorn?"

I didn't answer. He was supposed to be here to help me, and instead he was asking all of these questions.

"I can call Gettysburger. Get you a double Lincoln..."

"The last thing I had from Gettysburger was an Underground Railroad, and with the way it tasted, it probably should've stayed underground. There's beer and water in my fridge. I want Chinese."

With that, I knew our plans for the bedroom had been temporarily abandoned. The men in my life were slaves to violence and their stomachs.

I had started to get lost in my thoughts while I sipped my wine.

Fitz...

I couldn't get the sight of his cold, dead body out of my mind. I had started to think of the months leading up to his death when Jake entered the room again.

"I called Nicky's. Beef fried rice, extra beef, sweet and sour chicken, and, potstickers, steamed and fried."

All I could do was smile and nod. And smell blood. Fitz's blood.

I admit I let Jake undress me. He was good at that. If he gave it to Vanessa half this good, I'm sure her docile brain was thrilled.

"Does the smell bother you anymore?"

He stopped at that. He was probably curious. That was always his downfall. Mine too. One of the only reasons we were good together.

"Liv, what smell? You know I like your perfume."

So that was it. He wasn't going to admit to killing his best friend.

"You know what I'm talking about. You may be pretty, but you certainly aren't stupid."

I got up from the couch to grab another bottle of wine. I was going through this pretty fast, even for me. 1 bottle of Shiraz down, and curtesy of Mellie, two glasses of hooch.

"Olivia, whatever you're accusing me of, I had nothing to do with it. If I'm not with you, I'm with Vanessa, and you know she watches me like a hawk. I can't believe you made me marry her in the first place."

"That's enough. Your feeble attempt at lying is boring and insulting, and quite frankly, the fact that you're a murderer hasn't stopped me from sleeping with you before, and it sure shouldn't hinder your ability to take your pants off. After the Chinese gets here, we'll go back to the reason I called you over here in the first place."

He looked as if he wanted to say something else, but he could tell I wasn't in the mood. When he got here, he'd left his phone on the table, and it had started to ring. Glancing at the screen, I saw Vanessa's smiling photo fill the screen. Looks really were deceiving. The woman was a shrew in person.

"Your wife is calling."

He glanced just as casually at the screen as I had a few minutes ago.

"When you come here, when you come to me, for me, what do you tell her?"

I knew he wouldn't want to answer that. No man having an affair wants to spend more time talking about his wife than he does getting naked.

"I tell her that you and I have a meeting."

Another snort. The only things that met between the two of us were our genitals. We had agreed that it would be for the best if we no longer worked together. And for good reason. The last time we worked together, the love of my life ended up dead.

"Jake, do you think we only get one great love in life?"

He hadn't seen that one coming.

"When I first met Vanessa, before you, or your father got involved, I think that I loved her."

I was getting really good at snorting derisively.

"You don't _think_ you love someone. Either you do or you don't."

"The only person I _know_ that I have ever loved is you."

I smiled at that, and waited until he sat next to me on the couch to speak.

"It's ok to admit you never loved me. You must have achieved some thrill from screwing the bosses daughter, some sick pleasure derived from being allowed to touch the most unattainable thing in your life. I imagine that you fancied a future together that included us standing in the sun and never coming back to Washington. A future where Captain Jake Ballard was a real person and I was content to sit at home in our townhouse and play the little woman, keep an eye on our children and make jam. The problem with that is that is that not only could I never be with someone who could murder their best friend, this is not Vermont, and you've killed the only man I was ever willing to make jam for. I'm going to have a shower. I'll take some Chinese when it gets here."

A stiff wind probably could have knocked him over, but I didn't glance backward to see.

"This may not be Vermont, and Fitz may be dead, but I didn't kill Fitz, Liv. I would've given you the courtesy of a phone call before I murdered what you believe to be was _your_ one great love."

"You know nothing about what Fitz was to me."

"When are you going to understand that I know everything that he _was_ to you. I've seen it with my own eyes!"

He struck a nerve there. Whether through B613 or the NSA, he knew that I hated to be spied on.

"I don't care what you _think you_ saw. Anything that happened between Fitz and I was between us. We loved each other."

"It can't be that simple. Love. Love?"

"It _is_ that simple. Even on that island with you, it _was_ that simple."

"I wonder if that would still be true if he had known you aborted his baby?"

"I have never and will never need permission to exercise my legal right to choose. And what I may or may not have done with _his_ baby is absolutely none of your business. We aren't here to discuss your current profession or Fitz really. Unless of course you'd prefer I speak another man's name while you're inside of me?"

"Whether falling from your lips or a mere thought in that pretty little head of yours, it has always been, and will always be about Fitz. At least for you."

He just had to get the last word in. I had a type.


	2. Consider it handled

_**Hey guys! For those of you who have posted thoughtful reviews, Thank you! The feedback keeps me going. For those of you with snide commentary or reviews regarding personal preference, please refer to the brief synopsis I posted along with the story. This is Scandal as I have imagined it, and nothing more.**_

 _ **Now that I've gotten the unpleasantries out of the way, I'm looking to update this fic once a week, and I'm shooting for Friday's. I haven't really decided on the length, but I'm thinking 30 chapters at least. I respond to all questions, comments, or concerns as respectfully as they are posed, and I look forward to talking with some of you as much as I have in the past! Please enjoy the next chapter of ARLtF!**_

* * *

"No. No! I'm not going to talk to you about this right now because the man died only two days ago! The story hasn't even been leaked to the press yet. Mell-. Mellie. No. NO! You leak it and I swear I will not manage this for you. I will leak it to the press that it was a B613 job and that the many conspiracies regarding the republic are real. I will call you back once I have a moment. Fine. Come to my office this afternoon. I said this afternoon! Goodbye."

Melody Grant was a pest. She was capable of killing anyone's mood and as I was already in a foul one, so it didn't take much.

"Who was that?"

I startled at the sound.

"What are you still doing here? Go home to your wife."

I'd had way too much wine last night. Burying my head in my hands, I startled again as the phone rang.

"Harrison. Harrison! Well, she's dead, so they can wait. HARRISON! If you stop talking, I can tell you that I'll be there soon. No. Jake will bring me. Tea, green with extra milk, sugar, and lemon. Yes I did say extra. No I don't want any food. Fine. I said fine! Lox bagel, and so help me if you call again before I tell you that I'm on my way, you'll be very sorry."

"Were you going to ask me to take you to wherever this mystery place is?"

"Please. Do me a favor. For now, just stop talking and wait for me until I am out of the shower and dressed. I will give you the address then."

With that, I padded my way into the bathroom. My shower was swift, and I didn't bother to do anything more sophisticated with my hair than a low ponytail. Pulling on my suit jacket and pumps, I grabbed my bag from last night and threw my blackberry into it's depths. I knew Harrison would call again. He wouldn't be able to help himself.

In the time that I had taken to get dressed, Jake had cleaned my living room and kitchen and freshened up in the newly remodeled guest bathroom. He smelled clean and inviting. I deceptively stepped closer to him, breathing in his scent.

"I'm glad you showered. It probably wouldn't do for you to smell of me, would it?"

We made our way to the private garage where Jake held my door open.

While Jake got into the car, I checked to make sure that the major news outlets hadn't gotten wind of Fitz or today's client. I was barely paying attention when Jake pulled up in front of the residence. I should have known Jake wasn't going to allow me to exit without a "talk".

"Olivia, I'm not doing this anymore. I'm not some toy to play with or some drug that you can use to get your fix. I can't continue to lie to my wife or become lax in my responsibilities."

I started to laugh. A loud, aching belly laugh. I could feel my eyes starting to water, and I swear I could feel the irritation roll off of him in waves.

"Please don't blame me for your pathetic attempt at your farce of a marriage. Are you disenchanted with me? Have I in some way made you believe that I was someone else this entire time? Please make no mistake. If you've neglected your responsibilities, that speaks to your own lack of moral character and has nothing to do with me. You aren't a toy or a drug, but I'd be a liar if I didn't admit that you made me feel good."

I composed myself, glancing at him one last time, and quickly ghosted my hand over his rugged cheek.

"See you tonight?"

I didn't need to wait for an answer, but I did anyway. I could tell he was torn, but he nodded his yes, and began to straighten his tie as if it was suddenly _very_ interesting.

Sliding out of his Benz, I knew I needed to shed the personal and put on the professional. Now, I was no longer 'Liv'. I was Olivia Carolyn Pope, and I had a job to do. I quietly but firmly shut the door to the car and glanced around. So far, the press didn't seem to be sniffing around. They would be the moment they saw my face, and too many suits.

I quickly made my way into the house and shut the door. My team was good. All of the blinds and curtains had been closed, cell phones had been confiscated (I could see as much by the basket of them sitting on the kitchen table), and televisions had been stored somewhere the client would never think to look at them, evidenced by the empty entertainment center I could see in the living room. Everything appeared to be going as according to _my_ plan. My gut was telling me something was off.

I could smell her perfume before I saw her. Before I could brace myself, I saw a shock of red hair block my path.

"Olivia. Nice of you to join us."

"Abigail. I currently have a client waiting for me, and you are currently standing in my way. Besides, you no longer work for me. Please step aside so that I can do my job."

"No Olivia. You are going to talk to me. Why haven't you called me back?"

"Abigail. Move. I mean it."

"No. We're going to talk about this."

"Alright. You leave me no choice. As I am the only one willing in this room, I suggest you vacate the premises before I am forced to call the authorities on you. By the time they've gotten here, I will have thought of a convenient little anecdote to explain the dead body on the floor, and you, and only you, will be shoved into the back of a police car where I will make sure that the arresting officer makes sure to hit that pretty little head of yours as he puts you into the back. I have not been answering your calls because you and I have nothing to discuss. You thought it would be appropriate to share a secret that was not yours to share, and I can not, no, will not keep company with someone who has no sense of propriety. Now. You can leave on your own, or I can call in the dogs, but you will move, and you will do so quickly, because I have work to do."

With that, I watched her grab her coat to leave. Before she could say a word, I leveled her with a glare that could turn hearts to stone. I wanted to be clear here. Abigail Whelan and I were finished. I watched as a single tear fell from her eye and looked on as recognition crossed her face. If I was lucky, she wouldn't be back any time soon.

I turned back around to face my team and my client, and squared my shoulders.

"Ms. Pope, I had hoped our paths would never cross."

I smiled then, one meant to seem warm but that never reached my eyes. There were two types of clients: there were the ones that wanted so very badly to watch me do what I do, almost as if they were fans, and there was the client that was reluctant to accept it, but could not break even without my help. I abhorred the second type. They always made things so difficult.

"Senator Powers, while that may be true, I'm here now, so why don't I tell you the plan?"

"Tell me the plan? Ms. Pope, I have a plan, and I do not plan on deviating from it."

I smiled again. Regardless of the type, clients always seemed to think that we would be doing this their way.

"Senator Powers, with all due respect, you, or maybe your people, called me and my people. I'm never called because things are going according to plan. There's a dead girl on your kitchen floor. I wouldn't think that was part of the plan, was it?"

He sighed then. I knew I wasn't going to get an answer, but I was enjoying watching him try. All of a sudden, his wife emerged from the shadows. Harrison and Quinn seemed surprised to see her there, but I wasn't. I had seen her and the children from my peripheral.

"Ms. Pope, I do hope you will assist my husband with this _small_ matter. He doesn't deserve to have his entire political career derailed by someone the likes of _her_."

Another smile. I had to remember we were in the home of a southern family. They were Washington D.C. transplants, and to them, a dead body on the floor was a 'small matter'. Who was I kidding? After seeing Fitz that way, lying in a pool of his own blood, I couldn't say I didn't feel the same.

"Mrs. Powers, we'll get it done. We always get it done."

"And you'll save his reputation?"

"Consider it handled."

* * *

"Quinn. Quinn!"

Under normal circumstances, I was perfectly fine with being late. I liked to make an entrance. However I was meeting Mellie Grant, _the_ most trying woman I had ever encountered. Mellie and I had a meeting scheduled in ten minutes, and she was one shrew that did like to be kept waiting. The entire team was waiting on Quinn, and she was still printing photos. There was something about this client bugging me. I had an uneasy feeling in my gut.

"I'm sorry. Huck is on his way to an Office Depot for a new printer."

"Quinn, you of all people know that we don't waste time in this office. I don't particularly care why you're late as long as you produce the way you always have. Let's get started."

Harrison was staring at me, openly. I wished briefly that he would stop. I wasn't going to discuss our issue with Abigail at this moment. Not with so many prying eyes.

"I know we're tempted to begin with the Powers family, but let's start with the girl. I want to know why she was there in the first place."

There was a shuffling of papers and photographs before Quinn produced our dead girl.

"Kelsey Phillips. 20 years old, and as far as we know, she wasn't employed anywhere, which is weird, considering the fact that the cost of maintaining her monthly lifestyle is more than I make in a year."

Quinn had posted her photo now, next to a portrait of Mr. and Mrs. Powers.

"So she was sleeping with him?"

Huck was back now. I could hear his sneakers squeak across the floor.

"By all wire transfers it would appear so."

Something wasn't clicking for me here.

"Did the wife know?"

"From the looks of things, she suspected it was someone, but not Kelsey, and while I don't care for the woman, I can see why she wouldn't have suspected."

"Tell me why?"

"Because William Powers has a type. Shorter than him, skinny, brunette. Kelsey is none of those things."

"Which begs the question, if she didn't work for them, and if her and William weren't sleeping around, how did she end up in a pool of blood on his kitchen floor? Tell me about the wife."

"That's Tonya Powers. Think Mellie Grant before baby Teddy."

I nodded then.

"Seemingly sweet, southern, seemingly in complete support of her husband, and an absolute political monster."

"Good. It's a good start. Before the end of the day, I want to know how he knew Kelsey. I'll be in my office with a new client. We aren't to be disturbed. Find out what William and Kelsey were up to. Everybody has a type. I want to know why a Senator on the cusp of running for POTUS, all of a sudden chose her."


	3. Hell Hath no Fury

**Hopefully some of you are still with me... Enjoy the next chapter...**

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I couldn't help but smile at her. Mellie had always been a good actress. Sitting across from me, not a hair out of place was indicative of that.

"Any press follow you here?"

"Of course they did. The former first lady of the United States coming to see Olivia Pope? Bound to cause some talk."

I smiled again. Tightly this time. I hated when she left things out. I despised omission.

"How about we spend this meeting being honest with one another?"

"I will if you will."

"Of course, Mellie. Now, why don't you tell me how you managed to evade the press earlier."

Her smile mirrored my own. Tight. Guarded. Angry. Neither of us wanted to be involved with this. Ironic that Fitz had brought us together in death.

"Someone leaked that you were managing a crisis for my half sister. It seems that she gave up her artisanal soap making for embezzlement. I'm here to ask if you'll help her out. Never mind that I hope the shrew rots in prison and that I'm not going to do any such thing. It makes me seem as if care remotely about someone who's idea of elegant décor is coordinating confederate flags, and it will make you look benevolent once it's leaked that you've agreed to assist her. I'm assuming she'll call at some point and formally ask for your assistance as to not further tarnish her image, and you'll receive a nice check in the end. Everyone wins."

I was wrong before. Her smile didn't mirror my own. It was more frightening. Sickeningly sweet in it's intentions.

"I remember when Fitz first told me you'd sell Harmony out to save your own skin. I thought it was laughable. You valued loyalty like no other person I had ever met. I couldn't imagine you sacrificing your own flesh and blood like some sort of primitive animal. Now I know that you'd eat your own young if you had to. It's fascinating to watch. You're like a designer label national geographic episode. I'll take Harmony's case. I'm doubling my fee and insisting that you help her come up with the capital she'll need to come up with the cash. Harmony aside, let's get down to business."

In the bottom drawer of my desk I kept a file for this day. Whether it would be for Jake or Fitz, I never knew which, but I had been prepared.

"You're no stranger to the public eye, so I'm sure you know that this whole thing has multiple parts: Press, Law and Funeral. We'll start with the press."

Other than a small clearing of her throat, Mellie appeared to be taking everything in stride.

"The best way to manage this is to keep what we know a secret. The best way to do that is to go public with the fact that you and Fitz 'rekindled' your relationship. You've heard me say it before. America lo-"

"Loves a love story. You leak that me and Fitz were seeing each other. We'll find some 'sources' willing to say that in the past few days we've been seen with each other. Once that dies down, the story of how Fitz died of a heart attack in bed comes out. It'll be close to what you used with Pastor Drake."

I nodded my head and sighed.

"Close, but not exactly. As Fitz has already been dead a couple of days, we need to move our timeline up so that there aren't any reporters sniffing around. As you've been managing the press up to this point, you've probably missed the stories and reported sightings of you and our former President. Kimberly Mitchell should be contacting you shortly to get an exclusive regarding your new relationship. As Fitz was a bit of recluse, it won't be surprising that he won't be appearing with you."

I took a pause. The memory of Fitz and his last days had gotten to both of us. Briefly, her and I locked eyes, and she nodded slightly; permission to continue granted.

"After your interview with Kimberly Mitchell, we'll have to set up a fake sighting. The press will need visual proof. I have a guy that from behind, looks exactly like Fitz. You'll both be photographed wearing your old engagement rings. He'll have on a baseball cap and sunglasses. For our purposes, he will be Fitz."

"Later that evening, we'll have him officially pronounced dead by some paramedics of your choosing. We'll spin the story. You and Fitz were happy and he died knowing that the two of you had rekindled your romance."

"That is how he died Olivia."

More phony smiles. More pretending to believe her.

"Mellie, I have to give you the information. I'm not interested in the details of the fabrication of your love story. Do you mind if I continue?"

"Yes. I mind. Why would I need to make this up?"

"Mellie. Please don't do this right now."

"You're right. I have no idea what I was thinking. Of course you'd have an issue with Fitz being faithful to me."

This time, my smile went from sweet to tight. She was beginning to test my patience.

"Mellie, would you like my help, or shall I refer you to Leo Bergen?"

That got her attention. The last time she had tried to work with Leo, things had impressively imploded.

"Hurry up. I have a Senator expecting me. He's just lost his daughter and I'm sure he's in need of some comfort."

I wasn't surprised as I watched her leave. She always did hate discussing Fitz with me. As she left, I briefly closed my eyes and took a deep breath. Something about Fitz's death and the timing of the body in the senator's home was odd to me. The next time Harrison stuck his head in here, I'd ask him to do some digging for me.

As I sat in my office, I started to go over every detail of our plan to look for weaknesses. There was something about the rekindling of Fitz and Mellie's love story that sounded off, and at this point, I couldn't tell if it was my own natural bias, or if there really was a hole in the fantasy. Most thought the dead told no tales, but the smart ones knew that while the story was rather one sided, there still was one. I had yet to see it, but I needed to visit Fitz's body, and for that I needed Huck and Quinn.

I stood and gathered my things, briefly swaying on my feet. These shoes were pinching. By now I should have known better than to wear them on a day like today. I squared my shoulders and paused briefly at my door, giving the team time to scatter. With Mellie's presence in the office, I knew they had been listening. I couldn't blame them. I'd be curious as well. Opening the door, I nodded to those standing by.

"Huck, Quinn. I want to see him and where he's being held. We'll take an unmarked vehicle. For the first few blocks, make sure to keep with the flow of traffic and make sure that the sedan you choose has tinted windows. I don't want anyone seeing me inside. Harrison, I want you to find me more information on the senator and tonight, a new Gladiator. Preferably one you won't sleep with that won't betray me when she doesn't get her way."

With that, I walked swiftly to the lift, Quinn and Huck hot on my heels.

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